


Awkward Conversations

by DKNC



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 11:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKNC/pseuds/DKNC
Summary: This was originally written for a Ned/Cat drabble week prompt weeks ago, but I couldn't get it under the word limit. Probably not surprising to anyone. The prompt was "sin/virtue".Explaining certain things to your child will always be awkward, but Ned regrets that this particular conversation must be painful as well.





	Awkward Conversations

Ned didn’t intend eavesdrop on his wife and daughter. He’d come to Catelyn’s chambers to escort her to dinner and been greeted by the sound of Sansa’s crying. The door was ajar and he’d nearly entered the room to see what had distressed the child when he was stopped short by her words.

“But Father would never do something like that to you, Mother! He would never hurt you!” Sansa cried plaintively through her tears.

“Of course, your father would never hurt me, sweetling,” Catelyn’s voice soothed. “Now take a few breaths, sit with me here, and tell me precisely what Septa Mordane said that upset so you.”

Septa Mordane? He couldn’t imagine the septa of accusing him of cruelty toward his wife. He leaned just around the doorway to see Catelyn sitting on her bed, facing away from the doorway with her arms around Sansa who sat close beside her.

Sansa sniffled, and then looked up at her mother. Ned could see her face better than his wife’s, but she wasn’t looking toward the door either. “We were talking about Alys,” Sansa said, her voice still catching a bit. “She’s been betrothed to Daryn Hornwood.”

“Yes, she has.” Ned could hear confusion in Catelyn’s voice as to how a discussion of the Karstark’s girl betrothal had anything to do with Sansa’s previous statement. “He’s a fine young man. It’s a good match.”

“I thought it was romantic,” Sansa said earnestly. “Septa heard us talking about it, Jeyne and me, and she said if we were old enough to dream about betrothals, it was time we learned what is expected of a noble wife.”

“I see,” Catelyn said slowly, and Ned could hear some irritation creeping in her voice. Catelyn had shared with him some of her own septa’s lessons on marriage, and the two of them had laughed a bit, but his wife had sworn her own daughters would know better.

“She said that men are brave and strong but they have . . . lustful urges just like beasts, and it is a wife’s duty to submit herself to her husband’s needs.”

“Sansa, sweetling, the marriage bed . . .”

“She said a man takes his . . .” Sansa interrupted her mother, but then put her hand over mouth, eyes large as if she were afraid to speak. Then she leaned close to Catelyn’s ear and whispered for several moments, before looking at her mother’s face. “That can’t be true, can it?”

Catelyn sighed. “Septa Mordane has never been a wife, Sansa. She only knows about the basic mechanics of the act, she doesn’t . . .“

“So it’s true?” Sansa looked horrified. “Men really do that to their wives?”

“Sansa, it isn’t horrible at all. It’s . . .”

“Septa says it hurts! And that it makes you bleed. But you have to suffer it to give your husband heirs and to protect him from sinning against the gods by . . . doing that to other women. But, Mother I don’t want anyone to do it to me!” The tears spilled from her eyes once more, and Catelyn hugged her tightly.

“There, there, sweetling. You are but nine years old. You are too young for betrothals, and much too young to concern yourself with what occurs in the marriage bed.” She sighed deeply. “Sansa, look at me. Septa Mordane is wrong.”

“But . . .”

“She is a good woman, and your father and I depend upon her to teach you and your sister many things, but she knows nothing of this. I had planned to speak to you of such things myself, once you flowered, and I will speak to you in far more detail before you wed, but . . . men are not beasts. You said your father would never hurt me, and you are correct.” She paused, and Ned knew her well enough to know she bit her lower lip as she chose her next words although he couldn’t see her face. “I have five children, Sansa.” His daughter’s face paled a bit. “And I love you and your brothers and sisters with all my heart. I thank the gods for you and pray to the gods to grant me as many babes as they see fit. Babes are one purpose for a husband bedding his wife. But babes are not the only reason I welcome your father to my bed.”

Sansa’s eyes got big again.

“Men do have needs, Sansa, and seeking satisfaction of their desires outside the marriage bed is a sin, but within the marriage bed, there is nothing sinful or terrible about the act. It is good for a man to desire his wife and for a wife to desire her husband also. It’s like a . . . gift we give to each other, and it brings pleasure and comfort to both.”

“It sounds awful,” Sansa protested.

Catelyn laughed. “I thought so, too, at your age. And I confess I was frightened a bit upon my wedding night.”

“You’re never frightened,” Sansa insisted.

“I am sometimes. But your father was very careful of me. Your father is a good man, Sansa, and he will wed you to a good man as well. You needn’t fear.”

Sansa looked thoughtful. “Do you have to do that to get a babe?” she asked.

“Yes, sweetling. But I promise, it is nothing like you imagine it now.”

Sansa nodded slowly. “But . . . then how did Father get Jon?”

Catelyn visibly stiffened, and Ned didn’t need to see her face to know what those words had done to his wife. “That is not a question for your mother, Sansa,” he said, striding into the room. Sansa jumped off the bed and stood before him, ever a courteous, respectful child even as her eyes widened in fear and her lip trembled. Ned silently cursed the severity of his voice. “I am not angry with you, child. You have done nothing wrong,” he said, endeavoring to soften both his voice and expression. “It is simply that your mother is not responsible for Jon. I am. She should not have to answer questions about my actions.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at his wife who had not spoken since he entered the room. Nor had she moved from her place on the bed.

“I . . . would never question your actions, Father,” Sansa said. “I only . . . I don’t . . .” She seemed to struggle for a moment, and then closed her mouth and set her jaw. Sansa looked almost precisely like her mother, but the expression was his own. “Forgive me, Father. It is not my place to question you at all.”

“No,” he said softly. “You are far too obedient a child to say what is in your mind, Sansa, but I shall answer your concern all the same.”

“Father, I . . .”

“It is all right, child. Your concern for your mother and respect for me both do you credit, but I will answer.” 

He didn’t want to continue towering above her, but he didn’t feel he should sit beside Catelyn on the bed either, so he pulled a chair near to where Sansa stood, glancing briefly at his wife as he did so. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, her normally expressive face a mask as she returned his gaze.

“Sit down, Sansa,” she said softly, her eyes softening a bit as she looked at their daughter. Sansa immediately sat beside her mother once more.

“I heard what your mother said to you, Sansa, and she spoke truly. There is no sin in a man desiring his wife and a wife desiring her husband. The act that creates a child is a gift the gods have given us. It is a precious gift, not meant to be squandered carelessly, but held closely between two people. The desire between a husband and wife is honorable and good. And the act itself is an expression of commitment, of comfort . . . of love.” He heard Catelyn’s sharp intake of breath as he spoke the word. He rarely spoke of love, but that made what he felt for her no less true. “You and your trueborn siblings were all born of these things between your mother and myself, and that, too, is a gift.”

Sansa sat almost as still as her mother, silently waiting for Ned to continue.

“Your brother Jon was born of the same sort of physical act. But there was no honor in it. No true commitment or love. My blood runs through his veins, same as through yours, and I will care for him. But he will never be a Stark, though the fault is not is. The dishonor falls only on myself. It is not Jon’s nor is it your mother’s. Do you understand?”

Sansa nodded almost imperceptibly, and Catelyn put an arm around her, “Sansa?” she almost whispered.

“Yes, Father,” she said in a small voice. “I understand.”

His daughter had trouble meeting his eyes and Ned felt more shamed than he had in a long while. She was still too young to understand all the implications of Jon’s bastardy, but she understood clearly enough that he had done something very wrong, and it broke something inside him to think that he was no longer a good man in her eyes.

“Sansa,” Catelyn said still softly, but no longer whispering. “Look at me.” Ned turned to face his wife as his daughter did, but Catelyn’s eyes looked entirely into Sansa’s. “Good men make mistakes. Good women and good children do, too. It is a virtue to acknowledge the wrongs you have done, and an even greater virtue to never repeat those same wrongs. Your father is a good man.”

“Yes, Mother,” Sansa said softly. She then hugged her mother tightly.

“Go on now, sweetling. Find your sister and the two of you come to dinner. Rickon’s nursemaid will bring the little boys, and Robb’s old enough to come on his own.”

“Yes, Mother,” Sansa said, rising from the bed.

“We’ll see you in the Great Hall, Sansa,” Ned said, rising to see her off.

“Yes, Father,” she said. She hesitated only a moment before wrapping her arms around him as well, and he felt immensely grateful for it as he returned her brief hug.

When she had left the room, he and Catelyn were silent a moment.

“You should never have to defend me concerning Jon,” he finally said.

“No. I shouldn’t.”

“Catelyn, I would never ask it of you. Please know that.”

“I do.” She shrugged a little. “She’s a child, Ned. Children see the world in black and white. Things are wrong or right. People are good or bad. I wouldn’t have her think her father is anything other than a good man.”

“Because you don’t want her hurt,” he sighed.

“Because it’s true,” she corrected him. She then sighed and rose from her bed. “You are a good man. And a good father. I would not undermine that.”

“But I wronged you.”

“You did. But you have not since.” She looked down, biting her lip.

He reached a hand out and tilted her chin up to face him. “Speak, Cat. Whatever is on your mind, please tell me.”

“I love you.”

That isn’t what he’d expected to hear.

“I gave you my word long ago, Ned, that I would never again ask about the boy’s mother. Hearing you speak of his . . . conception . . . hurt.”

“Catelyn, I never want to hurt you. Please believe that, my love.”

“But you also spoke of our own children’s conceptions as being an act of love, and while Robb may have come from an act more of duty than love, I do love his father now and have for a very long time. So yes. All our children are born of love, and past transgressions will never change that.”

He put his arms around her. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Maybe not. But I’m yours regardless, my lord.”

He smiled at her. “And I thank the gods for it, my lady. Every day.”

“If you keep looking at me like that, we’ll miss dinner.”

“Would that be so terrible?” he asked her.

“Well,” she said, twisting her own arms around his neck, “If we do, one of your coarser men will no doubt comment upon our absence, and it’s much more likely that Sansa will understand such comments now and may feel the need to enlighten her siblings. I don’t think I’m ready for Arya or Bran to hear Septa Mordane’s rather terrifying description of the act of bedding.”

Ned laughed. Gods, it felt good to laugh in Catelyn’s arms and he thanked the gods that they could share this even after that painful conversation with Sansa.

“That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say I intend to have a long talk with Septa Mordane. And to expressly forbid her from speaking of marital relations with any of our children ever again.”

Ned laughed again before pressing his lips to hers all too briefly. Then he groaned as he pulled away and offered her his arm. “I suppose we truly must attend dinner, then. May I escort you, Cat?

She smiled and took his arm. “Always, my love.”


End file.
